What can I do?

Whenever there was a situation that I wasn't sure of, which has happened many times in my life, Yama had advised me to ask myself...what can I do. When Etta and I had a very nasty fight, with wounded hearts and stubborn pride holding me at a distance, Yama's words finally came to me while I was sitting staring at a puddle near the stream. It wasn't a matter of giving in, though in the burn of hurt feelings I didn't see it that way. It was a matter of seeking an end result that I was happy with. My friendship with Etta was my golden goal, and in that spirit, I searched my heart for what could I do...to bring about my desired result.

My current situation was slowly changing, brought on by my own realization that the change wouldn't occur unless I inspired it. I had gone in search of both my Master and the Artisan once before, but timing is essential, and that had not been the time to focus attention on me. I had spent a good portion of most of the day packing and strapping in preparation for our departure in the morning. I was excited, eager to return to that routine I had just felt I was starting to feel. I knew the days of travel made it a bit harder to find those I searched for, so I hurried to the main fire camp as soon as I could.

I was pleased to see the Mistress Seveya camped out on one of the wagon steps that still sat in a ragged circle around the fire pit. Perhaps the ideal time had come and gone already to make my apology, but I firmly believe it is never too late. Ever. It was a pleasant exchange, and I was happy I had made the effort. Especially when I saw the smile in her own eyes. I offered her my service, and I hope she realizes it is not in payment, but in sincerity to aid her. This is something else Yama taught me - an open heart offers, but does not expect acceptance. I will be the first to say that is not the easiest of ideas to hold to, and I am pretty sure I will struggle with it all of my life. Today happened to be a day when it was easy to do.

My Master had arrived during my conversation with the Mistress. He moved with difficulty and seemed to be missing body parts. I doubt that anyone within view was not concerned. He is a wonderful man, and I can point to all those worried hearts as evidence. Being as he is a ...man...He tends to brush aside fussing over. Being as he is a... person... I am pretty sure He appreciates being cared about.

The Mistress Asria needed to speak to Him, though. I had heard the drums not long before I headed toward the camp. I knew that it spoke of her, but I had not yet gotten enough details to understand the story fully. She needed to speak to Master, and not around Lei. That part was obvious. A more selfish man would have bid her to wait until He could ...move. Brave Warrior Master Fonce is not a selfish man.

Mistress Sev's Uncle came shortly after. He, too, moves with molasses slowness, as if every part of his body speaks angrily to him. I was sent to see to his needs, and it was my first time serving ...here..on my own..without Dee. My teeth chattered and my knees were knocking, but I didn't even spill anything. I try to make jokes when I am nervous, and ...someday I will learn...they don't go over so well. The master was pleased, however, and I felt that desire and burn and need coursing through every capillary. I would do whatever I could to make sure of that ending smile. In my mind, that smile transformed onto my Master's face.

I am not sure if Master Fonce understood the apologetic approach I made when He returned, but it was offered. I think the timing was appropriate, since contact would have been a bit too much for His sore and aching body. His scent screamed of healing salves and proper care, so the most I could do was present the options of help. I was armed with the good intentions of both Sev and Cana coupled with my own, so the proposition was an overflowing bundle.

There was a good deal of discussion following about the little Mistress Lei speaking with Master. The air was growing thick and congested, and tension twanged back and forth. I was still trying to assess His damage from a lower perspective when He sent me to serve. That was a moment of many emotions. Perhaps a passang-stone ...where He had the confidence in my training to allow me around Him at the main fires. I shed the chill and heat that made wave patterns around the fire as I turned to find any I had not yet served. That is when Master Fonce made His escape. I wish I had not spent so much time trying to see up His tunic.

The one I would eventually serve, still feeling the butterflies of nervous uncertainty, wanted blackwine. I was surprised to find that He was not pleased, and asked what I might do better - the next time. In retrospect, I am rather tickled with myself for pushing those jitters aside to be mature about it all. Then I was threatened, darkly, and I prayed that the second threat of the evening would turn out all right. Honestly, being told your intestines can squeeze through your right tear duct leaves a rather vivid impression. My Master is the Ubar of detailed tales of exactly what might happen in the next moment. This second threat was not near so detailed, nor vivid, but I was shaking still.

My tweaked nose will remember...make it quicker next time.